


Inconvenient Tears

by moonshield



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:52:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1285135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonshield/pseuds/moonshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Post-Doomstar Requiem] Skwisgaar Skwigelf had never been an emotionally strong person, the disturbed manchild with a broken heart is no good for him either; however, their bond is impossible to ignore. The real challange is to survive together in this ocean of emotion, instead of drowning alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inconvenient Tears

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Metalocalypse Big Bang. To see artwork by the great klokateercatlady and tokiistheking, visit http://mtl-bigbang.dreamwidth.org/1061.html

The unconscious body was taken from his arms as soon as he stepped in the Dethbus. Green hooded Klokateers pulled the cold body he had been carrying away from him, ignoring his protests and threats.  
  
Surprisingly, Ofdensen was the one who held him during this painful separation. As soon as they took the limp body from his arms, Skwisgaar knew it could be the last time he held him; he couldn't even bear the thought, so he sobbed on Ofdensen's ever-present red tie and white shirt. He sobbed and screamed while clutching their ex-CFO's shoulders as if they were alone, as if no one could see this vulnerable state he was in.They sat there, on the carpeted floor of the Dethbus, for hours with Skwisgaar dripping tears on Charles's red silk tie and Charles offering comfort by rubbing the lead guitarist's back.  
  
***  
  
The arrival to Mordhaus was a quiet one. The tall man with tear stained cheeks watched the fragile and small, almost childishly innocent-looking body being transported into the hospital wing of the haus.The godlike body of a once young and beautiful man was now so thin, so pale and so sick-looking. The old scars that decorated his back were reopened and accompanied by many fresh ones. All the beeping machines and drugs hooked up on him made him look even smaller in the white sheets; this man-child with the cheeriest personality he knew didn't fit in those white bed sheets; he should've been running around and spreading joy with his optimistic, hyperactive and _almost_ annoying demeanor.  
***  
  
Once inside, they all sat in front of the double doors of the intensive care unit. Not a single word was exchanged between them, they didn't even know why they were sitting in front of the sterile room in the first place. Maybe it was a false sense of comfort, it felt as if their 'brother' couldn't get hurt if they were close to him.First few hours of the wait were silent, everyone busied their minds with something while waiting for someone to get out of the doors of the intensive care unit.  
  
Murderface was stabbing the blood red couch he sat on with one of his newer knives. The stuffing of the leather cushion gushed out with every stab. Nathan bit the chipped nail polish on his nails, getting small bits of black lacquer on his lips. Pickles sat on the floor with a bottle of beer in his hand, he examined and occasionally peeled the wrapper around the green glass instead of drinking the once cold liquid.  
  
Examining his bandmates, Skwisgaar continuously ran his long fingers along his now dry and dull hair. He was a lot calmer now, if not a bit drowsy thanks to the sedatives Charles forced him to take. Still, his fingers itched to pluck his guitar's strings to shove the slowly rising bad thoughts away; but he couldn't bring himself to leave, so he busied himself by playing with his hair.  
  
His hair brushing with fingers turned into hair pulling as he started feeling the cold and the void inside his heart. He knew that his bandmate was strong, that he wouldn't be taken down with this; but his thoughts were overrun by his feelings and psyche.Hair pulling became hair plucking as unwelcome tears made their way down his cheeks. A sudden sob tore from his throat, attracting the attention of those around him.  
  
Last thing he remembered was being held by Nathan as he thrashed and kicked the air while sobbing with strings of blond hair in his fisted hands.  
  
***  
  
When he regained consciousness, he found himself in a room without windows. Judging by the white walls and floors that clashed the entire setting of their home, it was a room in the hospital wing of the haus.   
  
He didn't have the power to get out of the bed, so he didn't even attempt to. Instead, he buried his head in the soft, white pillows and relished the temporary tranquility.That was when he remembered why he fell into this hospital room in the first place. His eyes widened with horror and his stomach churned with fear.   
  
 _How long had he been sleeping?_  
  
He was on his feet with one swift motion, ignoring the nauseous feeling and his spinning head, making his way to the door; but he was taken aback when Charles opened the door, looking at him with serious eyes.  
  
"So, you're awake. How are you feeling?"  
  
Skwisgaar eyed him, the man talked in a surprisingly stern tone, so unlike the man who comforted him. He replied his question nonetheless.  
  
"Ams fine."  
  
A dead silence followed his remark, Skwisgaar had many questions to ask; however, he was scared of what he might hear.Charles could sense the guitarist's discomfort, the taller man's mouth opened and closed multiple times as if he wanted to say something but quickly changed his mind.Finally, Skwisgaar could muster up enough courage to blurt out the question.  
  
"How ams he?  
  
"He hated this. He hated the way his voice broke when he asked the question. He hated the way he resembled a wounded deer, still standing but getting weaker. He hated the way Charles looked at him with pity etched deep within his serious and cold façade. He hated being in this position because of him.  
  
 _He hated him._  
  
Charles offered a sad, knowing smile to the guitarist before getting serious once again.  
  
"His surgeries went well, but he is still comatose. They are allowing visitors now so I thought you'd like to see him, ah, maybe?"  
  
It was amazing how a few words could render a miserable and weak person to a hopeful, energetic one. Skwisgaar could feel his heart warming at the thought of seeing their rhythm guitarist, but the fact that he was still comatose and the unspoken possibility of him never waking up was still gnawing at his mind.  
  
His train of thought was interrupted when Charles cleared his throat in order to get his attention; Skwisgaar's motionless body and blank face worried him. Getting the hint, Skwisgaar nodded in approval and took off towards the rhythm guitarist's room with conflicting emotions, mainly hope and despair, clashing inside him.  
  
***  
  
The red leather couch was empty, cloudish white stuffing littered its cushions and the floor. Murderface did a nice job destroying the couch by stabbing it repeatedly since the stuffing was everywhere; which meant the rest of the band spent a considerably long time waiting in this corridor and they couldn't have left this spot a long time ago. Observing his surroundings to avoid entering the room, he realized that the corridor was deserted and eerily quiet; he guessed that the others' visit was over.  
  
Taking a deep breath and rubbing his tired eyes, Skwisgaar opened the door and walked inside.  
  
His heart got broken once more at the sight before him.  
  
In the bed lied their rhythm guitarist, their 'brother' as they'd now call him, no matter how foreign it rolled on their tongues or how weird it sounded. Sharp cheekbones dug into his sickly pale skin, his washed hair formed caramel colored swirls on the pillow. Malnourishment and sleep deprivation took its toll on his muscular body; there was an apparent loss of muscle mass that made his bones visible under the bright fluorescent light. Scars, bruises, burns and cuts decorated his body; all those signs of abuse and torture were the only colors visible on the man since he was as white as paper. Blue veins were also visible on the porcelain-like skin now, some thick some thin, sticking out and ressembling a tree's roots.  
  
But what struck Skwisgaar the most was his face; even when sleeping under heavy doses of drugs, he was not at peace. He always heard that comatose patients would look peaceful and happy as if they're simply enjoying a relaxing good night's sleep after working hard; however, the shorter guitarist looked in a constant state of terror and pain.  
  
All he could do was to sit on the white chair beside the bed and watch the slow rise and fall of the comatose man's chest.  
  
Just as Skwisgaar fell into deep thought while pulling and biting cuticules on his right index finger, the door was softly opened.  
  
Startled, he snapped his head to the door, putting his right hand on the chair's armrest and squeezing it.  
  
To his surprise, the person who opened the door was Abigail Remeltindtdrinc with Deddy Bear in her hand.  
  
She was wearing a long nightgown, so unlike her usual attire, that covered all the bandages underneath. Her face and figure were remarkably smaller now, she too had lost weight. There were dark circles around her tired eyes. Even though she was awake and she could move around, she wasn't in a good condition herself.  
  
Skwisgaar pushed himself up quickly and rushed to the side of slightly limping Abigail to lend her a hand, ignoring the nauseous feeling that came with standing up suddenly.   
  
She offered him a small smile and accepted his help. Hugging her waist with an arm, he led her to the chair near the bed and helped her slowly sit.   
  
When the task was done, they both fixed their gazes on the man lying in the bed. There was a silent understanding between them so they didn't feel the need to try forming a conversation. They just looked, with Abigail clutching the silly stuffed animal and Skwisgaar standing with his arms crossed.  
  
"He never lost faith in you guys. He thought you started searching for us just after the funeral incident."  
  
His mind wouldn't help his mouth to form any words, so he silently listened.  
  
"He was wrong, you didn't look for us; you partied, got high and fucked groupies. Hell, forget about me, you abandoned your brother in that damned place..."  
  
Abigail didn't look at him, her eyes were still fixed on the bed. Her mouth was still slightly open, but she wasn't talking. Skwisgaar watched her quivering lips, waiting for her to continue. He wanted to protest, but he couldn't bring himself to talk.  
  
"...then you came for him, because your fans protested. You came for him beacuse you were afraid of losing those who are devoted to you. You came for him because you were so scared of losing your precious, goddamned **money**."  
  
Despite her calm façade, Skwisgaar could see how angry Abigail was. She was trembling and she clenched her teeth, tears of frustration were visible at the corners of her eyes. He wanted to tell her that they had their reasons, that they never forgot about them, but her intense feelings prevented him from talking; she was radiating fury and crushing Skwisgaar with both her energy and words.  
  
"You are just a bunch of selfish bastards."  
  
His body enjoyed surprising him.  
  
 _He was crying._  
  
He wouldn't have noticed it if it wasn't for the salty taste of fresh tears in his mouth. His hand went to his face to wipe those tears away, but it ended up on his mouth, trying to muffle a sob.  
  
These few days had been a blur to him, consisting only of breakdowns and showing weakness near others; it wouldn't matter if Abigail's name was added to the list of people who vitnessed his moments of vulnerablility.  
  
With that, he didn't hold back and started sobbing uncontrollably, letting fresh tears replace the old tear stains on his cheeks. His skinny legs wobbled and he slowly sat on the floor, both hands firmly holding the hospital bed.  
  
Abigail stared at him, shocked and confused at the same time. This man, who always seemed to be the coldest and the most apathetic one in the band when it came to bonds, was crying on the floor; much ressembling a hurt, lost little child. She wanted to make him feel regretful and ashamed so he would feel guilty, as she already did to the rest of the band, but this reaction was uncalled for.  
  
Not knowing what to do, Abigail slowly stood up in order to give him some privacy; seeing Skwisgaar Skwigelf openly crying was too much for her to handle in her fragile state, she also felt a pang of guilt for turning him to a teary mess on the floor.  
  
However, Skwisgaar surprised her once more that day.  
  
"Stay."  
  
For an unknown reason, Abigail complied and dropped herself on the chair once more. Normally, her stubbornness would get the best of her and she would do as she wished; but this was different. This time, there was a crying guitarist on the floor at her feet who slept with thousands of women and didn't give a fuck about all those hearts he broke; the cold, uncaring guitarist was crying because of her harsh yet equally honest words.  
  
Skwisgaar's sobs subdued into sniffles, his body still slightly trembling. Abigail sat on the chair, playing with Deddy Bear's tail, waiting for him to say something.  
  
Slowly, he turned to her with something soft, akin to affection, in his bloodshot eyes.  
  
"Tells me... Ams he goings to hate us when he wakes up?"  
  
Abigail shook her head slightly, with a small, sad smile on her dark lips.  
  
"He will be angry, just like me, but..."  
  
She put her hand on the rhythm guitarist's hand, caressing the dry skin.  
  
"He got it worse than me, Skwisgaar. _Toki_ may turn into a total stranger when he wakes up."  
  
A single tear made its way down her right cheek.  
  
"He may be broken beyond repair... if he ever wakes up, that is."  
  
It didn't take long for Skwisgaar to join Abigail, tears gathered in his eyes once more. Slowly, he reached for her hand and took it. She smiled; a genuine, sad smile and gave his hand a slight squeeze.   
  
"We should be strong Skwisgaar; me, you, Nathan, Pickles and Murderface; we all should be strong for him," she said, pulling her hand from his to wipe tears away. "It's never too late to correct mistakes made in the past," she was on her feet now, standing in a powerful and dominant stance, looking down to him. "You'll atone for coming to his aid this late by believing in him and by being strong."   
  
It was Skwisgaar's turn to offer a sad smile, however, there was no one in the room besides him and the comatose man in the bed now. Feeling both ashamed and sad, he covered his face with his hands, long fingers digging into his scalp; unlike Abigail, being strong have never been his strong suit.  
  
***  
  
It was a particularly cold day, unlike the usual september weather. He was lying on his back, watching the plain ceiling. The sun had just started to rise; it colored the white room to various tones of orange and yellow, making the sex and booze smelling room more bearable. He was naked and cold, but he didn't want to disturb the sleeping figure next to him to get under the fur covers; he would send her away in a while anyway.  
  
He looked at the large figure sleeping beside him, the woman that he failed to pleasure last night. She was a perfect combination of good qualities in his mind; she was a fat lady with smooth, milk chocolate colored skin. She had a big bust and wide hips, her belly was the perfect size; yet he failed to pleasure this gorgeous woman who worked so hard to pleasure him.   
  
Slowly, he stood up and was greeted by a wave of dizziness. Doing his best not to flop down on the bed, he rushed to the bathroom and closed the door as slow as he could. Punching the lightswitch on, he scrambled down to his knees in front of the toilet and hugged the cold porcelain. He wished there were someone holding his hair or rubbing his back as he emptied the contents of his stomach, which consisted mostly of alcohol, onto the white porcelain bowl. He dry heaved a couple more times before putting his head on his arm, unable to find the strenght to stand up.  
  
He tightly shut his eyes while resting his head on the toilet seat, the silence and his state of sobriety made him feel even worse; his mind was going to a certain comatose rhythm guitarist. To avoid these venomous thoghts that made him turn into a soulless shell of a man, he stood up, supporting himself with the toilet tank.  
  
It was easy to conclude that he was dirty and smelly, considering the state of his room, so he walked towards the long bathtub. Turning levers and letting water fill the tub, he walked towards the length mirror at the corner. It was interesting to observe how different his reflection was each time he looked into the mirror.  
  
This time, the man in the mirror was a sick-looking shell of a once beautiful man. His shiny and well-trimmed hair was now matte with split ends and greasy roots. His eyes, deep, icy blue irises that used to be full of passion and energy were now empty and dull with purple circles ringing them. His always prominent cheekbones were now sticking out in a sickening way. With his anorexic body and general unhealthy look, the man in the mirror was not Skwisgaar Skwigelf, not the world's fastest guitarist, he was just a sorry excuse of a human being who turned uglier everyday with drug abuse and malnourishment.  
  
Watching his reflection in the mirror, his gaze shifted to his left arm that looked like it was abused. His right hand went to his arm, to the pale skin that was covered in red, yellow and purple blotches. He ran his long fingers on the skin, absentmindedly touching several small holes that stained his arm; some still fresh, some already scabbed. He frowned at his bruised skin; he'll have to pay extra attention to cover these marks and he'll have to do so without raising suspicion.  
  
As a perfectionist, Skwisgaar's image was really important for him. His old self, after seeing this reflection in the mirror, would've taken an hour long bath and would've called his personal army of Klokateers to get groomed; however, he wasn't that man anymore. Instead, his only reaction to his current look was to scoff and turn around.  
  
Making his way to the tub, he turned the tap off and stepped into the steaming hot water. He could feel his tender skin burn, but the sudden sensation made him feel alive once again, even if momentarily, so he didn't bother with turning the cold water tap on.  
  
Lazily, he slid forward in the porcelain tub until he could barely breathe with his nose. His long hair floated on the surface, making him remember old times; Toki would do this whenever he sat nect to Skwisgaar in the hot tub. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes he would listen Skwisgaar strum fast melodies with his guitar and sometimes they would just relax in silence, enjoying each other's company.  
  
He didn't realize he was shedding tears once again until a teardrop made its way to his right nostril; starting to cry unconsciously was a new habit he developped during these dark times of depression and emotional struggle. Nobody ever knew that this cold-looking man was actually a very emotional and sensitive one; he had struggled all his life to appear as strong as possible. However, with these current events, his pent up feelings started flowing freely in the form of tears. Normally, he would've done his best to get rid of this new, unwelcome habit; but he was too tired of fighting.  
  
 _He was too tired of feeling._  
  
 _He was too tired of living._  
  
He closed his eyes and slid further in the tub, engulfing himself completely in water. He was at peace now, he couldn't hear or see a single thing, his mind was black. His lungs started protesting, urging him to get his head out of the water; these protests were ignored as he focused on a single thing; Toki. His expressive blue eyes that radiated youth and innocence were the all he could imagine before he was violently pulled out of the water.  
  
"YOU IDIOT, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"  
  
It was Nathan, he pulled him out of the water by his hair with a frantic look on his contorted face.  
  
Skwisgaar wanted to shout at him for many reasons; first of all, Nathan startled him and second, their singer was unwary of his force because it felt as if he ripped his hair from his scalp; that or he actually intended hurting him, which was quite possible. Unfortunately, all Skwisgaar could do was to cough on the water he swallowed, unable to defend his actions or shout back at Nathan.  
  
Nathan slowly calmed down when he realized that his lead guitarist was choking on the water he swallowed, not knowing what to do, he smacked Skwisgaar's back to help him cough up the water.  
  
With one last cough mixed with a pained cry, Skwisgaar stopped choking and started panting instead, trying to get his oxygen-deprived body back to normal. Nathan looked at him with an odd shine in his eyes; he patiently waited for Skwisgaar to calm himself.  
  
"Dat smack was reallys unneckessaries you knows."  
  
Skwisgaar couldn't get the apologetic reaction he was waiting for; Nathan fixed him with an uncharacteristically deliberative look.  
  
"Skwisgaar, what were you doing in the tub?"  
  
The one question he would've loved to avoid was shoved to his face by the singer because honestly, he himself didn't know what he had been doing in the tub. Doing his best to look confident, he looked at Nathan in the eyes.   
  
"I was just fully wettings my hairs to, you knows, shampoo it. My hair ams so dry nows that I..." his blabbering was cut short when Nathan curtly told him to shut up and muttered something about Europeans being weird.  
  
Suddenly his eyes lit up as if he remembered something of great importance, but he averted his eyes from Skwisgaar.  
  
"Get dressed," he said, with the faintest blush visible on his cheeks. "I'll wait for you outside."  
  
***  
  
Putting on black skinny jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt that used to fit just right to him, he exit the bathroom. He was grateful that Nathan hadn't noticed the horrible looking blotched skin of his left arm; despite all he was going through, he still was a lucky man.  
  
Nathan sat at the edge of the no longer occupied bed, waiting for him. It was a shame that his guest from last night left this early.  
  
"Uh, hey. You're ready." said Nathan, starting to get on Skwisgaar's nerves. His hands itched for a joint, a syringe or a bottle of strong vodka; again very unlike his old self. His Gibson Explorer sat at the corner of the room, gathering dust; he couldn't soothe himself by playing it anymore.  
  
"Yes, I ams. Why dids you comes here anyways?" he asked, not bothering to mask the annoyance in his voice.  
  
Nathan was clearly taken aback by the guitarist's snapping tone but he chose to ignore it.  
  
"Well it's about Toki..."  
  
Skwisgaar's heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach, he dashed out of the room with his eyes   
wide open with both hope and fear. He didn't even realize that he forgot wearing his boots, he just ran towards the hospital wing with his naked feet making slapping sounds on the cold, stone floor of Mordhaus.  
  
Nathan watched the flash of yellow and black run past the door with a stunned expression before sighing and muttering about 'crazy Europeans and their stupid douchebaggy behaviors'. He reached for the mini-bar in the white room and pulled out a bottle of beer. Using his teeth to pull open the cap, he deliberately walked towards the hospital wing as well. He would never admit it to anyone; but he was feeling truly happy; he _almost_ could feel a big, genuine smile forming on his lips.  
  
***  
  
Skwisgaar barged into the room, out of breath because of all the running, his feet throbbing. His head was spinning and he felt like throwing up; this sudden movement pushed his body and affected him way too quickly. The sudden realization of his poor health condition made him consider try getting healthier but he chased these thoughts away, he had more imporant things to do first.  
  
Ignoring the two other people occupying the room, he turned his attention to the bed.  
  
He expected to be greeted chirpily by him, to be held and to be hugged; however, he was dissapointed to realize that the man was still lying in the bed with his eyes closed. It was promising to see his normally limply lying body a bit more straight, to be able to notice a faint rosiness on his cheeks; he looked _alive_ , with his troubled face replaced with a serene expression. Skwisgaar softly smiled despite his dissapointment.  
  
He turned to look at the two other occupants of the room; both Pickles and Abigail had a surprised expression on their faces, possibly startled by the sudden intrusion.  
  
Unsurprisingly, Abigail was sitting on the bed near Toki, holding his left hand tightly. Apparently they formed a powerful bond during their abduction, Abigail protected and loved Toki as an older sister would love and protect his innocent, inexperienced younger brother. Pickles, on the other hand, was standing near the bed, clutching Deddy Bear to his chest. He was ashamed to see that he probably was the person who visited Toki the least; probably even Murderface stopped by more than he did, he would rather die than admit it though.  
  
"Did he wakes up?" asked Skwisgaar, throwing a hopeful glance at the bed.  
  
"No," said Pickles, muttering a _'an' h'llo to ya, ya douchebag'_ under his breath. "He is slowly wakin' up tho'."  
  
Not comprehending the situation, he raised his voice a little. He really needed to relieve himself soon.  
  
"What the fucks ams dat supposeds to mean?" he asked. Pickles was looking too happy, this room was too small and every single thing around him was frustrating him.  
  
"Dood, chill out. There ain't any reason to shout."  
  
Even in his slightly high state, Pickles's patience was wearing thin. He didn't want a bitter Swede to ruin his good mood. He was trying to help him by telling him good news, why the fuck was the tall guitarist this angry and moody?   
  
The two approached each other with bared teeth and hands balled in fists. Pickles had dropped Deddy Bear on the floor but he couldn't care less; all he wanted to do was to beat the guitarist and make him apologize.  
  
Their predatory stances were broken when Abigail softly kicked their knees without standing up.  
  
Abigail was used to dealing with stubborn snobs, it kind of was her job after all, so she took the matter in her hands.  
  
"Guys, calm down! Pickles, sit on the chair at the end of the bed. Skwisgaar, go sit on the chair at the other side of the bed. No objections allowed."  
  
The two obeyed her orders; Skwisgaar's face indifferent with his annoyance as visible as daylight in his eyes, Pickles simply pouting like a child.  
  
She turned to the blond man that was sitting at the other side of the bed.  
  
"Well Skwisgaar, you see, waking up from a coma is a lot different than what you see in movies."  
  
Skwisgaar's head perked up, clearly curious about what she had to say. It was amusing how maternal she felt at that moment; scolding her adult children and telling them things that made their eyes sparkle with wonder. Laughter bubbled in her throat, but was replaced by a slight cough.   
  
"Comatose people cannot wake up at once, they need time to become fully conscious," Skwisgaar opened his mouth to say something but Abigail ignored him. "Toki is half awake now, he responds to touch and moves," she said, trying her best not to burst out laughing at the bewildered expression on the tall man's face. Damn, it was hard dealing with these grown-up toddlers. "You can see for yourself if you don't believe me. Come, hold his hand."  
  
Cautiously, he reached for Toki's hand, holding it gingerly as if it would break with the slightest touch. He looked up at Abigail for her approval; when he saw the warm smile on her full lips, he fully took Toki's hand in his and gave a slight squeeze.  
  
He jumped up in surprise when the hand in his gave a weak squeeze. This lightly calloused hand that had been so cold and lifeless that day was now warm and full of life.  
  
For some unknown reason, he was ectastic; it felt as if Toki's touch was the only thing he needed, as if this single touch would make everything better.  
  
 _There came the tears again._  
  
***  
  
It had been a period of nervous wait after that day; he visited the rhythm guitarist as much as he could; being with him, feeling his touch, seeing his tranquil face made him content.  
  
His awakening had been as sudden as his abduction. It was early october; a beautiful sunny day that made him wish he could go take a walk outside with him; he would pet every single animal he'd see and Skwisgaar would scoff and call him a dildo.  
  
 _It was his way of showing affection._  
  
Now, he was sitting on his bed with his beloved guitar in hand. After days of sitting at the corner of his room and gathering dust, Skwisgaar finally took his Explorer and started strumming it. His long fingers smoothly glided on the strings as if he never stopped playing. Just as he thought he couldn't play any faster, someone knocked at the door.   
  
Setting his guitar on the bed, he stood up and walked towards the door; he kept it locked whenever he wanted absolute solitude. When he opened the door, he was greeted by a sad Pickles.   
  
"Ja? Hows can I helps you?"  
  
Pickles was looking at Skwisgaar's feet, his dreads forming a red cloak around his face. He sighed deeply before answering.  
  
"Toki's awake..."  
  
Hearing those two words made Skwisgaar push the smaller man aside in excitement, with dread growing in his stomach. These were good news, why the hell was the man before him this miserable and shaken?  
  
However, Pickles was a lot more stronger than he tought. He kept his ground, not moving an inch from the doorway.  
  
"Stop push'n me 'n list'n! Toki's awake but he's very cold towards us," he said, his head dropping once more. "Jus' thought I'd warn ya."  
  
Pickles turned away with a sad smile on his lips and started walking towards his room, dragging his feet.  
  
Skwisgaar was in a dilemma; he either went to see Toki right now or ignored him. He knew that in the end, no matter what he chooses, his heart would break and he would be dissapointed; his bright mood would turn into the sour, depressed one once again.  
  
His brain was screaming at him to lock himself in his room and reach for his _relievers_ ; however, his heart begged him to go visit Toki in order to see his expressive face and meet his icy blue gaze with his sky blue one.  
  
He would lose his sanity anyway; why not choose the one that would make him happy, even if momentarily?  
  
Retreating to his room, he checked himself out in the mirror. He still wore long-sleeved tops despite his hatred towards clothing that covered his slender arms since some bruises were still visible on his left arm. He despised baggy clothes, thus, anything with long sleeves was the first on the list.   
He sighed at his reflection; he was nervous to go visit him. He knew that Abigail was right about what she told him when they were first rescued; they really did broke Toki's heart by rescuing him that late; and he had yet to learn about the things they did just after the abduction of their rhythm guitarist. It pained Skwisgaar to even imagine the kid looking at him with hate filled eyes rather than affectionate ones.  
  
Taking a deep breath and trying to still his palpitating heart, he exit his room and started walking towards the hospital wing of Mordhaus.  
  
***  
  
"I can't take thish schit anymore, I'm leaving!"  
  
The first sight Skwisgaar saw was a pissed Murderface, storming out of Toki's room and slamming the door behind him. He had been extremely irritable ever since those purple marks, much resembling to a tree's roots, appeared on the cut on his arm. Even if Nathan forced him to go see a doctor since 'those tattoo-like marks looked even worse than the real tattoos on his stomach', he refused, claiming that all doctors wanted to do was to jack him off and make him go through a gay crisis.   
  
Skwisgaar threw him a worried look, curious about what made the bassist this angry; he knew the answer but thinking about it made him want to punch the nearest wall, so he acted as if he had no idea.He opened his mouth to ask Murderface what the problem was, but he shut it when he saw the tears gathering at his eyes.As if hearing Skwisgaar's thoughts, Murderface turned to look at the blond guitarist."Thisch ish bullschit." he said, before letting a single tear descend down his cheek. He turned away towards his room, rubbing his cheek furiously.   
  
Skwisgaar was rooted to where he stood, he couldn't move. He wanted to see Toki, even a single glance of him being full of life would turn him into an euphoric man; however, he knew that the rhythm guitarist would treat him no different than he treated others, maybe worse, even.  
  
Skwisgaar had his reasons, every single member of Dethklok did. If asked, everyone would agree that it was easier to bury your fear, your sadness, your disappointment and your pain rather than facing them. In their case, it had been faking their best smiles while trying to fight their inner demons by sex, drugs and alcohol.  
  
He looked at the simple wooden door that intimidated him so much before clearing his throat and slowly opening it.  
  
***  
  
After all they went through, he wasn't surprised at the sight before him. Both on bed, Toki was holding Deddy Bear close while crying with his arms around Abigail's waist and his face buried in her neck; Abigail had her left arm on his shoulders, playing with his hair while her right hand caressed the brunet's face. Toki's weak frame shook as he sobbed; the agony he felt was evident.   
  
He pushed the door closed, not sure what to do in this situation. He didn't know if he should make his presence known or if he should stay still and silent to observe the rhythm guitarist since Toki's cries had a certain beauty to them. What Skwisgaar felt at that moment, besides fear, was probably what a mother felt when she heard her baby's first cries just after birth; those cries showed her that her child was alive and healthy; the mother would cry tears of joy as the baby cried of pain.  
  
Abigail chose that moment to lift her head up and lock her glazed eyes with his.  
  
Her hands stopped soothing the body wrapped around her waist; with the loss of contact, Toki ceased his sobs into sniffles and looked up.  
  
Widened icy blue clashed with sky blue; the intensity of emotions in the smaller man's eyes made Skwisgaar freeze on where he stood. That pretty face of his was red and wet with a mixture of snot and tears, his reddened puffy eyes made the cold blue irises stand out even more. His chapped lips were slightly pouty, making him look like a troubled child; however, all this mixture of unique allure radiated were anger and pain towards him.   
  
Deddy Bear was abandoned on the bed when Toki saw him standing in front of the door.   
  
"I thinks you gots lost."  
  
Even though his voice was uncharacteristically hoarse and low, the venom dripping from his words were still clear to his ears.   
  
"Tokis I..."  
  
"We don'ts have anythings to talks about."  
  
Suddenly, something inside Skwisgaar snapped; he was shaking with rage now. Abigail looked at them with worry in her eyes; just as she thought of something to say in order to lighten the mood, the blond guitarist blew up.  
  
"You knows what? You's rights. We don'ts have anythinks to talks about. This ams bullshit, I don'ts know why I ams here to greet a stupids Norwegians cry-babies!"  
  
He had his hands balled into fists at his sides, his eyebrows were furrowed and he was trying so hard to keep tears at bay. The man in front of him, however, had started sobbing once more.  
  
He turned around on the balls of his feet to leave the room before letting tears loose; the man on the bed screamed at him just as he yanked open the door.  
  
"FUCKS YOUS, SKWISGAAR, I HATE YOUS!"  
  
Toki threw Deddy Bear on the floor, possibly trying to hit him but failing because of his weak muscles.   
  
Skwisgaar sharply whipped his head back and shouted back.  
  
"GOODS, TOKIS, BECAUSE I HATES YOU TOO!"  
  
With those last words, he exit the room and slammed the door shut. Once outside, he ran towards his room, trying to swallow the small sobs that rose in his throat. Toki's crying and screaming that he wanted so much to avoid, however, were now etched in his brain.  
  
***  
  
Once in his room, he locked his door and pulled open the bottom drawer of his dresser. Tears blurred his vision, he furiosly flung every single article of clothing he could get a hold of to the other side of the room. His hands blindly searched for a wooden box but failed.  
  
Letting a sob escape his full lips, he looked around the room, trying to remember the location of the box that was so important to him at that moment. Just as he started crawling towards the white mini-bar for a weaker source of comfort, he remembered where he last put the box days ago.  
  
Wiping the tears and snot away from his face with the back of his hand, he sprung to his feet and sprinted towards his bathroom.  
  
He fell on his knees in front of the lacquered, white cupboard and ripped it open. Inside, there were stacks of cloud-like white, fluffy towels in different sizes. He was openly sobbing as he emptied the cabinet; white towels were spread on clean, equally white tiles.  
  
He let out an appeased sob when his fingers touched the solid, rectangular box. Taking it out, he admired the solid wood as if it was the most precious thing he ever had. His hands, trembling with both extreme sadness and anticipation, wandered on the box, as if trying to memorize every single detail on it.  
  
This box was given to him by the man who now hated him. It was handmade with floral ivory fretwork on its sides; on the lid was an engraved fretwork, a depiction of Valhalla featuring Odin and a valkyrie with unknown soldiers. He had given this to Skwisgaar on his birthday, claiming that it was a special gift for him. Even though they were nihilists, they both were very fond of Nordic pagan culture; it was just another thing they shared;  
  
 _That they won't probably share anymore, since there was no 'they' now._  
  
Skwisgaar lifted the lid with trembling hands and took out a clear plastic bag with white powder inside. Taking a syringe, a tealight candle and a spoonful of water from the sink, he made his way to the bedroom with the baggie tucked under his armpit.  
  
Carefully setting his materials on the bed, he grabbed a bottle of strong vodka from the mini-bar and sat on the leg with his legs crossed.  
  
His sobs had subdued but tears were still leaking from his eyes. He reached near his bed and took a lighter and a framed photo from clutter on floor since he didn't have a nightstand.  
  
Lighting the candle and carefully adding the needed amount of powder into the water, he held the spoon on the small source of heat. He sniffed before taking the framed picture and placing it in front of himself.  
  
He smiled a sad smile through tears, both Toki and Skwisgaar looked so happy in the photo, drunkenly hugging each other. It was a shame that they never will be able restore their relationship.  
  
Doing his best to still his hand that was holding the spoon; he started sobbing once more, accompanying his tears with raw, emotion filled sounds.  
  
***  
  
It had been two months since he woke up. He had accepted the apologies of all Dethklok membres by now, except one; because that particular member didn't apologize, he didn't even acknowledge his prescence.  
  
They were two strangers now, they hurt each other deeply simply with a couple of words that day. Not talking to him and being completely ignored by him made Toki weep every night under his bed's covers.   
  
It was a very cold december morning. After waking up from the coma, Toki had to work so hard in order to be able to walk; his muscles had weakened so much. Now, he was able to work out again, without tiring and forcing himself too much of course.   
  
Still wrapped up in his blanket, he remarked that surprisingly, he had a peaceful sleep that night. He didn't see any nightmares involving a metal masked maniac and Dethklok's old lead guitarist; he had an empty, dreamless sleep; a sleep as void as his soul.  
  
Even though his night had been calm, he didn't want to get out of the bed; he didn't feel ready to face the day, he didn't have the energy. His body was aching all over and he didn't feel rested at all; all he wanted to do was to roll to the other side of the bed and continue sleeping, the cold air wasn't helping too. However, his aching and tired body aside, the real reason he wanted to spend preferably the whole day in bed were depressing thoughts surfacing in his mind once more; mostly on a certain blond Swede.  
  
Toki was pretty determined to stick to his plan which involved staying in bed whole day; according to his doctor, he could do anything he wanted as long as he didn't tire or hurt himself anyway. Satisfied with his idea, he rolled and lied on his back, chasing away all the negative thoughts from his mind. Just as he closed his eyes for another long sleep, his stomach rumbled in protest.  
  
He was hungry; hell, he was starving.  
  
There was no way Toki Wartooth could sleep with an empty stomach.  
  
Sighing in desperation, he threw the covers off of him and got to his feet. Doing his best to avoid stepping on the clutter that littered his room's floor, he walked towards his desk and searched blindly for his Dethphone without pushing anything off the desk.  
  
After seconds of blind patting, his hand landed on the spiked phone. Judging by the still dark sky, it was about four in the morning. Pressing the middle button of the phone, he hissed in pain when the bright screen burnt his eyes.  
  
He had been right; it was four thirty, which meant the kitchen would be empty at this hour in the morning. Delighted that he will be able to do and eat as he wished, he picked Deddy Bear up and exit his room; clad only in his baby blue pajama pants with small, white rabbits on them.

*** 

The haus was very dark and silent at this hour in the morning, Toki was glad he took Deddy with him so that he wouldn't be alone.

  
Skipping towards the kitchen, he was surprised to see its lights turned on. He slowed down but jumped into the kitchen nonetheless. 

He regretted his move the second he got into the kitchen; Skwisgaar was sitting on a chair with his long legs propped up on the table, a neatly rolled cigarette between his right index and middle finger. He couldn't see Toki, his back was turned to the doorway; it was possible that he heard the loud rhythm guitarist though.

Toki stood there, watching the man exhale a waft of smoke towards the ceiling. The lead guitarist was an alert man, he probably already figured out that someone was standing in the doorway; he also was smart, so he probably knew it was Toki who entered the kitchen and stood motionless.

  
He could enter the kitchen as if there were no problems between them, or he could sprint back towards his room and try to forget about his rapidly growing hunger.

Knowing that it was inevitable for him to confront the taller guitarist one day, Toki entered the kitchen, not trying to mask his prescence. He set Deddy on a counter and opened the fridge, rummaging through its contents in order to find something that would both satiate his hunger and please his palate.

Not finding anything that would please his sweet tooth, he pulled open the freezer part of the large fridge, oblivious to the movement behind him.

He was pleased to find an unopened pint container of 'Chunky Monkey' deep in the freezer; he picked it up, humming in delight, to get a spoon from the drawers. When he turned around, the sight before him made him sneer in annoyance.  
"Puts it down, Skwisgaar."

"Oh Tokis, why, hellos to you too," said the taller man with a smug look on his sharp features. He was leaning on a counter and holding Deddy Bear from his tail. "You shoulds try askinks nicely if you wants your teddy bears back."

Toki wanted to attack him and to fall on his knees crying at the same time; his chin was quivering with anxiety.

"Please." he said, as a mere whisper, unable to make his voice come out stronger.

Clearly pleased with his influence on the younger man, Skwisgaar dropped the brown bear on the white stone floor and went back to the table. He looked satisfied, with his full lips pulled into a smirk; yet his heart was screaming at him for making the boy hate him even more.

Their relationship had always been like this, mocking and degarding each other in a loving way; but now, everything was different. Skwisgaar didn't know how to be affectionate towards the rhythm guitarist so that he would forgive him; apologizing was out of the question in this case since Skwisgaar was hurt by Toki's harsh words as well and his ego wouldn't let him.

Now, all the teasing and mocking resulted in hurting each other's feelings, mostly Toki's, since the rhythm guitarist was quiet and collected whereas Skwisgaar used every opportunity to push the younger man's buttons in hopes to see an intense reaction from him. Unfortunately, he never got the reaction he desired for, and possibly made the brunet _really_ hate him.

Toki was close to tears by now, he quietly lifted Deddy Bear from the floor and joined the Swede on the table. He hated that their almost nonexistent interractions always ended like this; Skwisgaar being evilly mean and Toki wanting to lock himself in his room and cry. Normally, he would just get angry and attack the older man, but after the incident, he always ended up as a heartbroken man. 

He tilted his head forward, covering his face with long brown strands, and started spooning his ice cream. Even eating his favorite flavor of ice cream didn't cheer him up. 

***

Skwisgaar was restless, the man sitting in front of him was getting on his nerves. This submissive man wasn't Toki; he wanted to see the younger guitarist jumping around excitedly, threatening people when angry, showing affection and love even when it was unrequited, beating people if he was very pissed; not hanging his head in shame whenever he actually felt something. This man wasn't the person he cared so much about.

The man sitting in front of him was a spiritless shell of Toki Wartooth and Skwisgaar Skwigelf would do anything to bring out their rhythm guitarist's usual self from the depths of his soul.

"I fucksed three groupie sluts today, I'ms reallies tireds."

Toki hated it when he bloated about being a sex god and fucking many women; however, this time, he just continued eating his ice cream in silence.

"Goods." he said, not even bothering to lift his head up from the cup.

Skwisgaar lit another cigarette in deep thought. He should find something better to push Toki.

"You knows, now that you ams awakes, you shoulds start pracktisinks your guitars playing," he said, exhaling the smoke on Toki and watching him closely for any reaction. "Your playinks ams probabslies even more dildoes now, as if you coulds plays any worse than you already dids."

Something akin to anger flashed in the rhythm guitarist's eyes and dissapeared quickly, much to Skwisgaar's annoyance; his patience was wearing thin.

"You big dildoes crybabies, you's too scareds to tells me that you haven'ts been pracktisinks, arent's you?"

Toki stabbed his light yellow colored ice cream with the spoon, halting his eating.

"What de fucks do you wants from mes, Skwisgaar?"

Skwisgaar was supressing the urge to smirk, Toki was getting angry but it was going too slow. This was his only chance to break him, to make him show his true self, to bring out the true Toki Wartooth that he cherished; and he would fully use this chance to accomplish his goal.

"Nothinks," said Skwisgaar, propping his legs on the table once more. "I just wanteds to see if savinks you instead of replacinks yous was a goods ideas or nots."

Skwisgaar had succeded, but he had mashed Toki's buttons too hard. 

In a flash, Toki was on the lead guitarist with a feral cry, pinning him down on the ground. The chair Skwisgaar had been sitting on was smashed and the blond man's soldier ached horribly.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKSERS, I FUCKINGS HATES YOUS!"

Toki's strong fist collided with his left cheek, the impact made blood fill his mouth.

"WAS IT REALLY THAT EASIES FOR YOUS TO THINKS ABOUT REPLACINGS ME, HUH?!" screamed Toki, pulling Skwisgaar's face close to his by fisting his long, blonde mane in his hand. "IF YOU ALWAYS HATEDS ME, WHY DIDS YOU TAKES ME IN THE BANDS IN THE FIRST PLACE?!"

"YOU'S AS BAD AS MAGNUS, I HATES YOUS BOTH AND I HOPES Y...OW!"

This time, it was Skwisgaar who landed a successful blow on the more muscular man. Toki held his jaw, eyes watering in pain; Skwisgaar didn't let this opening go to waste and pranced on him, using his long limbs to pin him down on the cold kitchen floor. He was angry; combined with the extereme fury and impatience he felt because of the lack of drugs in his system, he could murder someone in a blink of an eye.

"DONT'S YOU DARES COMPARES ME TO THAT SICK BASTARDS!"

Toki had tears in his eyes; both his body and soul were hurt. He was also sick of being pushed around by Skwisgaar and his cocky attitude. He was so close to Toki's face, the brunet could smell his cigarette reeking breath and see his fiery eyes; being this close to him and seeing his intense gaze made Toki do something he hadn't done for a long time.

Instead of shying away from him and submitting, he headbutted Skwisgaar in the nose, making the taller man cry in pain. Using the blond's weakness to his advantage, Toki pushed him on the ground and sat on his hips. He pried Skwisgaar's bloody hands that were clutching his bleeding nose away and pinned them on his head.

"I WILLS COMPARES YOU TO MAGNUS, BECAUSE YOU AMS BOTH STUPIDS MOTHERFUCKERS AND I HATES YOU AS MU...MMPH!" his shouting was interrupted by Skwisgaar's full lips pressed tightly on his, smearing blood on his face.

He didn't move or react; he just watched with wide open eyes as the man under him let two tears slip down his sharp cheekbones as he kissed him, his sky blue eyes tightly shut.

Skwisgaar's eyes fluttered open, his eyes searched Toki's face for any kind of reaction; the man above him was frozen in his place, speechles.

"Tokis?"

Toki blinked multiple times before locking his eyes with Skwisgaar's. "Skwisgaar, what was dats?"

"I ams sorry."

He had a serious look on his face, his eyes didn't leave Skwisgaar's for a second. "Why dids you does that?"

Skwisgaar was unusually starting to feel ashamed of what he did; his usual cocky attitude was replaced by shame. Slowly, he lowered his eyes on the floor, unable to look at Toki in the eyes; the second question directed to him was ignored just like the first.

The tension in the air was almost visible to the eye. Toki still sat on Skwisgaar's hips and Skwisgaar was still lying on the floor, propped up on his forearms, his eyes downcast. They didn't talk, they didn't even budge a bit; they just held their positions in silence.

The tall blond was actually waiting for the shorter man to hit him or scream at him, calling him disgusting. His action probably would make the brunet react in an intense way, would make him show his real emotions like seconds ago. This had been his plan all along, to stir the feelings buried deep inside the rhythm guitarist; however, the kiss was unexpected and unplanned, even on Skwisgaar's part. He just did what felt right at that moment, what he desired; it was a pity that he probably mucked things up beyond repair after this bold move.

His face was almost reflecting his worry, he was regretting his actions and was thinking of a way to run away without ruining what was left of their relationship; so Skwisgaar was both surprised and startled when a soft hand slowly held his chin and lifted his face up.

Skwisgaar still couldn't meet his eyes, so he continued staring at the ground instead of looking at him.He was surprised beyond words once more when he heard a stifled giggle coming from the man who sat on his hips. Finally, he lifted his blue eyes to the brunet's face in shock and confusion; Toki was biting his bottom lip, face red from restraining his laughter.

"Tokis?"

He burst out laughing at the bewildered mention of his name. Skwisgaar was baffled, all he could do was to stare at Toki as if he grew a second head; nevertheless, his shrill laughter made Skwisgaar's heart warm, it really was a sound he missed hearing.

"You ams funnies, Skwisgaar." he said, his eyes shiny with amusement. They looked at each other in the eye; never breaking contact, never uttering a single word.Suddenly, after a few seconds that felt like an eternity, a strangled sob escaped Toki's lips, followed by hysterical ones. Skwisgaar didn't know what to do, he already expected a reaction of such when his lips had started trembling, but seeing someone he cared this deeply for shedding tears broke his heart.Blood staining both their faces long forgotten, he pulled the younger man in a tight embrace. Toki shook in his arms with sobs, wetting his neck with hot tears; Skwisgaar silently offered him comfort by raking his long fingers along the brunet's soft hair.

Still in silence, Skwisgaar lifted Toki up with surprising strength; the younger man instinctively wrapped his arms around the thin man.

***

Toki was still weeping softly when Skwisgaar took him to his room. He slowly laid the rhythm guitarist on his bed and went to the bathroom in order to grab a wet washcloth.

He saw that the younger man had stopped crying when he went back to the room. Toki turned his eyes to Skwisgaar when he heard his footsteps, silently watching the taller man sit near his lying figure on the bed. No words were exchanged as Skwisgaar deliactely cleaned the smeared blood on Toki's face and neck, afraid as if he would crumble under his touch. He dragged his right index finger along the brunet's bruised jaw before standing up and approaching a nearby mirror to clean his face up as well.

When he was done, he tossed the bloodied rag in the hamper and walked towards the room's door without looking back at the occupant of the bed.

"Why ams you leavings?" asked Toki, sitting up on the bed. It was evident by his voice that his feeling were hurt. 

Skwisgaar stopped with his hand still around the door's handle. It was a good question; why was he leaving? This was what he wanted for a long time, this was his chance to repair what was broken.

Everything happened in a blink of an eye; the man in front of the door was now straddling the brunet, holding his innocent face between calloused palms.

"I missed you, little Tokis." he whispered, before lowering his lips on Toki's chapped ones.

This time, the man under him responded eagerly, kissing the blond back passionately. He snaked his muscular arms around Skwisgaar's neck and played with the shorter locks at his nape, moaning when the said man bit his lips. This was the time for them to expose all their emotions and feelings about each other; they would show how much they secretly cared and yearned for one another.

How much they loved each other, in the name of _hating_.

***

Skilled hands on his cheeks found their way to his shoulders and laid him on the bed so that they could roll over.

They sat up once again, with Toki straddling Skwisgaar this time. Skwisgaar raked his nails on his partner's scarred, naked back before attacking his lips once more, eliciting another moan from the brunet.He stopped his motions when he accidentally scratched the scar on the left side of Toki's back, the only physical reminder of Magnus and the kidnapping. The raised flesh was sensitive to touch, thus Toki inhaled sharply in pain at the contact.

"Toki's," he couldn't form the sentence, he was out breath but equally worried. "Ams sorries."The man on his lap had his eyes shut, his nail dug in the skinner man'd shoulders.

As the pain on his back dulled, the brunet opened his eyes. 

"No problems, cans we continues?"

An answer wasn't needed as Skwisgaar latched his lips on Toki's once more. This time, it was Toki who bit his partner's bottom lip in order to gain entrance to Skwisgaar's mouth. Toki's breath was sweet; he tasted like a mixture of bananas and honey. The brunet, on the other hand, could taste the expensive cigarettes, blood and a very faint minty aroma in Skwisgaar's breath. They relished each other's taste as the air in the room grew thicker with desire.

Toki ground his erection to Skwisgaar's as their tongues danced sloppily; his was far more visible than the blond man's because of the soft fabric of his baby blue pajama pants.Skwisgaar roughly pulled Toki's hair, exposing the delicate skin of his neck. Putting his hands on the brunet's buttocks, he licked the smooth skin of Toki's neck, feeling the accelerating beat of his heart under his tongue. He closed his lips on the white skin, just above the jugular of the rhythm guitarist and sucked hard. Toki groaned and rolled his hips, grinding his erection to Skwisgaar's desperately, making the blond's member ache for attention.

Ignoring the need to fuck Toki right at that moment, Skwisgaar bit the spot he sucked on, leaving a purple bruise that won't dissapear soon. Admiring his handiwork, he didn't realize the predatory gleam in Toki's eyes.

Much to his surprise, he was roughly pushed back by the rhythm guitarist. Toki's only response to the bewildered look on his face was to chuckle and to plant a small kiss on his lips before pulling his shirt and biting his neck, hard enough to draw blood and make give a small cry.

The younger man's tongue never left his body as he descended further from his neck; to his collarbones and much to his delight, his left nipple. Toki sucked the pale pink bud as his nimble fingers gave its twin the much needed attention. Skwisgaar sighed in pleasure under the brunet's touches, arching his back to get more of him.

"Tokis... Ah!" his sentence was cut short as Toki grazed his teeth on the tightened bud, his eyes boring into Skwisgaar's to see his reaction.

With a last kiss on his nipple, Toki ventured downwards, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake. His move came to a halt when his tongue reached to Skwisgaar's jeans; Skwisgaar watched the scene before him with his breath hitched in his throat. The muscular man was opening the buttons of his jeans one by one using his teeth in an agognizingly slow manner; all the while staring at him with excitement and fire in his pale blue eyes.

When he as done with the task, he yanked Skwisgaar's jeans and briefs at the same time with a fluid motion, exposing the erect member of the Swede.

Skwisgaar pulled himself up on his forearms, panting heavily, to strip the Norwegian; however, he was stopped by a sweet, lingering kiss from the said man.

"I'ms not dones with yous yets."

It was unusual for Skwisgaar to be on the bottom, he always was the dominant one in his sexual encounters; he could make an exception with his favorite rhythm guitarist though.

Skwisgaar watched the brunet lower his mouth on his shaft and give a tentative lick to the tip. He smiled sweetly at the younger man for his innocence and inexperience ; however he was proven wrong when Toki suddenly took his whole length in his mouth without gagging, his nose touching the small patch of platinum yellow hairs above.

Toki bobbed his head up and down with a steady rhythm, using his tongue to trace the faint veins on his cock and his hands to softly fondle his balls. Skwisgaar moaned loudly in ecstasy; there was no way Toki could've learned giving amazing blowjobs by simply sucking lollipops; he definitely was experienced in the bed with a man as much as he was.

Skwisgaar unintentionally thrust his hips forward to meet Toki; even if Toki tried to hold the blond down to not to choke on his shaft, he couldn't restrain the Swde in an effective way in this position.

"Tokis, I ams so close, if you... if you don'ts stops I-ah!"

He came, spurting hot semen at the back of Toki's throat, still slightly thrusting in the Norwegian's mouth. Toki didn't let a single drip go to waste and swallowed it all, looking up at Skwisgaar from his bent position as he did so. The Swede lied flat on his back, failing to find the necessary strength in his arms to keep himself up.

Skwisgaar pulled Toki on him once again and kissed him, he tasted himself when he delved his tongue in the other man's mouth. Their long, lazy make out session ended when Skwisgaar felt the need for release of Toki; it looked as if the brunet could tear his pajama pants with his cock if he didn't get rid of it soon.

So he rolled them over and removed the brunet's bottoms, he got on the top in order to prepare Toki for what was to come.

Getting the clue, Toki motioned the first drawer of his nightstand. Not bothering to get up, Skwisgaar reached out for the drawer and pulled it open. He blindly searched the drawer for a tube of lube and smirked in victory when he grabbed it.

Lubing his index finger and Toki's enterance, Skwisgaar put his lips on Toki's as he pushed his finger into the tight ring of muscle, kissing the man to muffle his moans and grunts.

"Ah... Harders, please" said Toki between kisses. Skwisgaar complied, pushing his finger as deep as he could and adding a second one when the brunet was loose enough.

When a third digit was added, Toki was writhing under him and crying for more; it was a pleasure for Skwisgaar to make his little Toki's wishes come true.

Removing his fingers, he hooked Toki's legs around his waist and pushed his cock inside the tight hole. Toki cried out in both pain and pleasure, trying to get accustomed to the unusual feeling of being filled to the brim. He moved a bit to adjust the angle and take the Swede more comfortably; his movements were making it harder for Skwisgaar to control himself and not to fuck Toki senseless.

Toki finally started moving slowly on his member, indicating Skwisgaar to continue. Skwisgaar pulled all the way out before pushing in with force, making the smaller man moan in lust. The Swede pumped in and out, as Toki did his best to keep up with the blond's rhythm, meeting the taller man's thrusts. As Skwisgaar's orgasm neared, his thrusts became deeper and hit Toki's prostate, making him writhe and arch his back in ecstasy. 

The blond took Toki's cock in his hand and roughly fisted the hard length, eager to please Toki as much as he pleased him. Their breathings grew erratic as their orgasms drew close. 

With a few more hard thrusts to his sweet spot, it was Toki who came first, screaming Skwisgaar's name while spilling his seed on both their torsos and Skwisgaar's hand. 

Skwisgaar followed him shortly, shooting his semen deep within the brunet and groaning in intense pleasure as his body rocked with his orgasm. He collapsed on the panting brunet, feeling euphoric. Skwisgaar started lazily kissing Toki's neck as his blond hair got caressed by the Norwegian, they tried to calm their breathing and regain their strength in each other's embrace. 

"So whats now?"

This question was asked by Toki, and it was a logical one. Skwisgaar just had sex with the rhythm guitarist of Dethklok, with the man he had the most complicated relationship with. 

"I reallies don'ts knows."

Toki held Skwisgaar's face to look at him in the eye, the brunet's eyes were glazed. 

"Skwisgaars, I think I kinds of love yous."

The said blond held one of the hands on his cheek, caressing the soft skin on it with his long and deft fingers. 

"Mee toos Tokis' me toos." he said. 

Toki softly smiled and cuddled the older man, Skwisgaar returned the gesture by wrapping his arms tightly around the muscular man. 

They fell asleep in each other's arms after a while with Toki's head buried in Skwisgaar's neck and with Skwisgaar slowly tracing the stab wound at the left side of his lover with his fingers. The first one to fall asleep had been Toki; when the brunet had slipped into a happy slumber, the Swede let the tears that had been prickling his eyes flow freely from his cheeks. They were more than content when together, and it was all that mattered to them both; these two guitarists were happy as long as they were together with their 'love under the name of hate" relationship. 

_Damn tears always found a reason to get free._  



End file.
